


Psalms from the Shadows

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gay, M/M, Minor Violence, Romance, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: Happy 2019! A new year and a new story starring everyone’s favorite captain and factotum is ready to roll.With his genetics more of a mystery than ever before, Ianto is back at the Hub, ready to dive into field work to help keep his mind off whatever is going on inside his body. Then Jack is suddenly called off to a mysterious destination on some sort of secret mission leaving Ianto, Tosh, Owen, and an incapacitated Gwen to investigate the sudden disappearance of a herd of sheep outside the sleepy town of Craden-on-Monnow.No-one is particularly thrilled to be poking around in sheep droppings, but as the day wears on, the threesome discover that there’s something unsettling about Craden-on-Monnow. It’s more than the case of disappearing sheep, it’s the psalms that they hear being sung from the shadows…My posting schedule will be a weekly one with a new chapter coming every Wednesday.This tale – as all of mine do - takes place mainly before CoE although you might pick up some nods to things that occurred in the first three episodes of “Children of Earth”. There may also be a few small liberties taken from time to time with references to the show and its timelines.





	1. Chapter 1

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter One**

**Not One Spoonful of Sugar**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Some days begin rather nicely, some auspiciously, and others…well, others begin with being stripped to your briefs and poked and prodded by people other than your boyfriend. Those types of mornings are best forgotten if at all possible. I’d been trying to forget the cold, medical procedures and equally cold table I’d been seated on, but freezing cold balls kept me riveted to the here and now. As did the needle in my arm, the stethoscope in the middle of my back, and someone’s fingers pressing deeply into my stomach.

“Does it hurt when I do that?” Owen asked and I shook my head. Then he shoved his fingers deeper into my abdomen.

“Yes, that hurts,” I grunted, wishing I had a robe, or a blanket, or a modicum of modesty left. Doctors Jones and Harper had been quite thorough and those long fingers of Owen’s had been in places that should be entered only by my chosen partner. Jack, to add insult to injury, was standing in the corner, his lips a flat line, his arms folded over a crisp green shirt, and his gaze tight on the proceedings. “Are we nearly done?”

“Just a few more vials and we’ll be done,” Martha reassured me, sucking yet more blood out of me. I’d be woozy and in need of juice and a cookie soon.

“Surely you’ve run every test modern medical science has available already,” I whined then wished I’d not whine but we’d been at this for two hours and my patience – as well as my blood supply – was dwindling. “Ouch! Please stop palpating my stomach or whatever it is you’re doing!”

Owen straightened, his damn gloved fingers dropping to his side and his stethoscope falling back to his chest.  “Read this pin.” He tapped a new one that he’d fastened to the lapel of his white lab coat, his stethoscope dangling from his ears yet.

“I’d rather not,” I grumbled as Martha replaced a full vial with an empty one then flashed me her brilliant smile. I returned it with a feeble little smile of my own.

“Right, well, let me read it to you. It says, ‘Doctor Knows Best’ and since I’m the doctor and this is my field of expertise, I shall determine when palpating is required. You worry about creamers, tea bags, and numerically labeling alien droppings for storage.”

I rolled my eyes, bit my tongue, and endured another ten minutes of questions and examinations until my good humor ended rather suddenly. It might have been the fact that Jack was still watching, or that Grubby had snuck into the medical lab and was peering at me with big watery eyes while Martha swabbed my throat at the same time Owen thumped on my knee with a hammer.

“Surely we must be done” I coughed around the swab sliding over my tongue. “You cannot have one test left to run that you’ve not already run,” I said with more than a bit of sass.

“We can probe you. I have an alien probe. Rather girthy but I wager its nothing that you’ve not managed before,” Owen replied, giving Jack a quick over-the-shoulder look that the head of Torchwood met with a wry sort of accepting look.

“I promised Jack I’d not discuss girth in public,” I countered then peeked to the right when Dr. Jones giggled.

Martha’s eyes flared. “Look at you, all sassy and such talking about girth. Breaking in that UNIT hat, are we?”

“Possibly. He’s quite…inventive,” I replied with a sly wink. Jack cleared his throat loudly.

“This is far too much information!” Toshiko shouted over the sniggers and steady sound of water dripping. Thankfully she’d not ventured into the sick bay. I wasn’t sure I could handle her gaping at me in my skivvies.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Owen said, leaping up to sit beside me on a cold metal gurney. “Times being what they are, I say we all share as much information with each other as we can. How about we start by all of us having sex?”

“Firstly, I’d sooner shove a screwdriver into my ear. And secondly, that’s the third time you’ve suggested an orgy this week.” I slid off the gurney and padded over to my clothes. Jack handed me my trousers. “Thank you.”

Jack inclined his head.

“Lean times.” Owen threw his feet up on the gurney, crossed his feet at the ankle, and laid down with his hands under his dark head. “Clubs have been coughing up the same old tired birds, you know?” He gave me a waggle of a brow.

I blinked at our medic. “No, actually I don’t.” Grubby smiled up at me, an unsettling sort of grimace filled with sharp teeth, then held up my tie. “Thank you,” I said to the ugly little creature. He hugged my leg then ran off with one of my socks clutched to his scrawny chest.

“I really hate that damn little thing,” Owen snarled as Grubby rocketed off, leaving the lingering smell of squonk in his wake. “Reeks to high hell.”

“I think he’s cute, in a nightmarish sort of way,” Martha interjected, snapping the locks shut on the small box filled with my blood, skin, saliva, and other bodily fluids that I’d had to lock myself into a bathroom to produce. “I’m off to London to get these in front of the best geneticists we have at UNIT.” She walked over to me, a vision in a pale-yellow blouse and a white skirt, her lab coat folded over her arm. “Try not to worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.” She patted my shoulder gently.

“Let me walk you out,” Jack said, breaking his hours of silence. I gave her a bow and a peck on the back of her small hand then turned her over to Jack. The look he gave me was unfathomable and left me worriedly staring at his back as he escorted Martha to the parking lot.

“Are you decent?” Tosh called from outside the sick bay door.

“He’s always decent, its me that’s the indecent one,” Owen quipped, his dark eyes moving from me to Tosh walking in with a cup of hot tea.

“We’re well aware,” Tosh said to Owen as she passed by his outstretched hand to pass the mug to me. “Sweetened and creamed just properly.”

“How kind, thank you.” She really was a lovely woman, so considerate and pleasant. I took a sip then gave her a smile and a nod. “Perfect.”

“Oi now, I was the one doing all the work, all he did was sit there and bitch,” Owen sat up, threw his feet to the floor and popped out a hip, working the indignant look well.

“Well, he was the one being jabbed and palpated, so he gets the tea,” Tosh tossed back making me chuckle into my tea. She really was a spunky one deep down. “You know where the coffee station is, go make yourself a cup.”

“Right, nice, I see how it is.” Owen spun to stalk off and stalled dead when Gwen thumped into the doorway on crutches. “Fuck, what kind of honeymoon destination trip did you take?”

“Don’t ask, it’s too damned embarrassing,” Gwen sighed, trying to wiggle into the sick bay sideways, one foot in a sneaker the other in a cast up over her ankle. “Promise not to tell Jack?”

We all nodded. I shrugged into my jacket feeling a stew of emotions as I always did around Gwen. Sympathy for her obvious injury but a small niggle of dislike that I feared I may never overcome.

“Right well then, I broke it last night. Bowling.”

We all gaped at her.

“I know, bloody asinine right? Dropped a fucking ball right on my foot. Broke all kinds of bones and lost the damn game to Rhys. I’d have beaten him if not for this miserable mishap,” she said, lifting her casted foot into the air then wincing. “Six weeks in a cast then rehab.”

“What about the wedding?” I enquired then took a sniff of my tie. I smelled faintly of squonk where Grubby had handled it. I shoved it into my jacket pocket. There were clean ones down in my office in the archives.

“Postponed,” Gwen sighed then thumped over to a chair and dropped down into it.

“Oh no! That’s terrible,” Tosh gasped.

“That’s the pits, “Owen tossed out.

“How sad. Let me go make some coffee for you,” I said, gifting her a small half-smile then hustling off to do something for her that might ease the guilt I was feeling for taking some small delight in her misfortune. Obviously I had a great deal of work to do about that woman yet.

Scurrying up to the coffee station, I busied myself with preparing hot water then fixing a new pot of coffee, a special blend that I’d found in a new beanery in Mermaid Bay. It was a sweet sort of French vanilla mixture with outstanding flavor, body, and a nutty cocoa taste that appealed to one and all.

“Can I have a word?” Jack said, appearing, as he did at times, from out of the ether. Quite the feat given he was a big burly man. I jumped, scattering coffee grinds all over my tidy station, and cussing quietly about the scare. “Sorry, listen, I’m going to be leaving. Gwen is in charge. I’ll call when I can. Shouldn’t be more than two weeks tops.”

I spun around, leaving the grinds and half-filled filter untended, my gaze locked on him.

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

He shut down immediately. “I can’t tell you. Just trust me, I _will_ be back.”

 There was no way the man could have comprehended how hurt and angry I was but he was about to find out.

 

To be continued…


	2. The Hidden Mercy

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Two**

**The Hidden Mercy**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

“Honestly, is this how little we’ve progressed in this relationship that you _still_ can’t confide the simplest things such as your bloody whereabouts to me?”

I shocked myself with the veracity and volume of that statement. Jack’s brows flew up and got lost under his rakishly-styled bangs. Three heads craned around the doorway of the medical lab.

“Everything alright up there?” Tosh called out.

“Fine, just a little misunderstanding,” Jack shouted back, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Into the greenhouse. Now.”

I threw the coffee filters in my hand to the station and stormed into the greenhouse, the heat and moisture hitting me in the face like a wet sock. Jack exploded through the door, coat snapping angrily. Yes, his coat tended to relay his emotions, or at least my overly creative mind thought it did. Right now that sexy, gray RAF trench coat was mad.

“Dragging me in here is not going to shame me, I have a right to know where you’re going. You’re sleeping in my bed every night, Jack.” I fired off before he could say a word.

“This is why I dislike workplace relationships,” he snapped, waving a hand between the two of us.

“If I were a milkman I’d still deserve to know where you’re going. The fact that we work together has no bearing on it.”

He planted himself right in front of me and folded his arms over all those fancy coat buttons.

“Ianto, there are going to be times that I have to attend to matters that don’t concern you. We cannot be attached at the hip twenty-four seven, and to be honest, I don’t want to be. I’ve spent a long time solo,” he countered sharply. “Don’t get clingy. It’s unbecoming and not at all attractive.”

“ _Clingy?_ Asking where you’re going off to for weeks isn’t clingy, Jack, it’s caring. I care about you, I _worry_ about you. And God forbid if something should happen I’d need to know where to go to pick up all those bloody Harkness chunks! Do you like making those who love you agonize? Despite what Rumi says suffering is _not_ a gift that I relish being bestowed on me.”

His mouth flattened. Perhaps he was unsure of how to deal with an angry Ianto Jones, although he has seen me mad on occasion. I’d punched him in the face once, he’d held a gun to my head as well with his finger on the Webley’s trigger. Good times. Not.

“There’s that famed Welsh temper.” I said nothing, just stood there between two huge potted plants that Jack had grown from spores collected from a meteorite that had hit Earth in the late fifties. The orange leaves looked wilted. I half-joked on occasion that someday the plants in this room would bloom into carnivorous alien pod creatures and make meals out of us all. “I suggest that you cool down while I’m gone. When I get back I’ll fill you in.”

“Jack…”

“Ianto, don’t push me on this. There are times that things are above your security level. Leave it at that.”

I bit back several cutting things that were resting on my tongue. “So it’s work-related, you can tell me that at least?”

He sighed heavily. “Yes, it’s work-related.” He studied my face for several long seconds, and the ire began to fade from those blue eyes. “India. I’m going to India so if you need to come bag up Harkness chunks, head to India.”

“Thank you. I know you think I’m being possessive but the last time you took off you were gone for a year, no explanations, nothing. Just gone.”

“But I came back. I came back for _you_.” He cupped my face gently. “I will _always_ come back for you.”

“Not in chunks please.”

“I make no promises,” he replied, leading my lips to his. The kiss was passionate, slick, and simmering with unspent emotion. “Now, I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”

I nodded, his fingers trailing over my throat as he moved away. And just as tempestuously as he had blown through the doors he exited them. Coat swirling around his legs, shouting things to the others, he jogged down the stairs and disappeared. Giving myself some time to gather my wits, I watered the plants then made coffee.

As soon as I arrived back in the medical bay with four mugs of coffee on a tray, I was hit with questions.

“Where is Jack going?” Gwen asked as I handed her a mug.

“He didn’t tell me,” I flatly replied. The room erupted.

“Oh please, he’s up your ass every night, literally and figuratively,” Owen said then lifted a mug from my tray.

“Sorry, no, he didn’t tell me.” I moved to Toshiko who, out of the three, took the time to study my face closely. “Coffee?”

She nodded, gently removed a mug, and took a tentative sip, her mind spinning furiously I wagered while Gwen and Owen bitched about Jack and his secrecy.

“Well, as long as Ianto isn’t worried about him, we shouldn’t be either,” Tosh said loudly. The other two fell quiet for the span of a second.

“I’m not worried, I’m just sick of being uninformed,” Owen grumbled, stalking out of the med lab in a huff.

“He’s just mad that Jack left me in charge,” Gwen teased, giving me a wink that I smiled politely at. Yes, that would tug at Owen’s short hairs a bit. He and Gwen had this knotted-up sort of relationship where competitiveness had them grousing at each other all the time, attempting to one up the other. As the most junior of agents, I tended not to fixate on leading this team. Jack was and would always be the leader, I was happy to follow him and in his absence Gwen had proven to be a capable team captain. Not nearly as appealing as our dashing captain but certainly able to run things.

“I’ll be in the archives,” I announced, my cup of coffee still resting on the silver tray. I got a nod from Gwen and turned to leave when a steady pinging sounded off.

“That’s me,” Tosh said, pushing to her feet then jogging off to get to her work station.

“Oh damn,” Gwen huffed. I hurried over, took her coffee, placed it on my tray, and then put the tray on a bed.

“Let me help.” I offered her a hand up and assisted her in getting her crutches in hand.

“Thanks, this is going to be a fucking nightmare down here.” She gave me her gap-toothed smile which I returned. I’d be under her for a few weeks, might as well try to be polite. “First time I get too close the edge of the walkway I’ll be tits up in the water.”

I followed behind her until she reached her desk then handed her mug to her and took mine off my tray. Sipping it I stepped up behind Tosh and ran my sight over the plethora of computer screens. She smiled at me over her shoulder, her glasses now sitting on her tiny nose.

“Looks like we have a mysterious case of missing sheep right where there was a rift spike.” She tapped the screen in the middle of a trio of monitors, a small red blip signaling where the rift spike had taken place.

“Looks to be near Craden-on-Morrow,” I said between beeps. “Not a huge pulse of rift energy but a fair to middling one.” Gwen rolled over to sit beside Tosh. I stepped to the side a bit to give her and her broken foot room.

“Why don’t you three go check it out?” Gwen leaned up in her chair. “How many sheep are missing?”

“According to the call to the police, a good hundred or so,” Tosh replied, her eyes darting from one screen to the next.

“Wonderful, so are we now expected to go look for farm animals? Next we’ll be called out for cats up trees,” Owen said as he walked past and handed me his empty cup. “Want to fill that up for me? Thanks.” I rolled my eyes and set his empty cup beside Tosh’s elbow. I’d gather it up later. “Remember the days when we actually tracked aliens? Now we’re sheep searchers. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Perhaps the sheep were taken by aliens,” I offered.

“That’s my thinking. No matter, the rift surge is enough to warrant a trip to the field. You three go ahead, I’ll stay here and coordinate. Might pop another pain pill as well if I can find my damn purse,” Gwen huffed, wheeling in reverse. She’d be in the drink by noon.

“Works for me,” Tosh announced and stood. “Let’s head out to the country for the day. Might be nice. Fresh air, warm sun—”

“Sheep shit,” Owen interjected as he pulled on a leather jacket. “Have I ever said how much I fucking _hate_ the countryside?”

“Yes,” we all said in unison.

He wasn’t the only one. I still had nightmares about our last trip to green, rolling farmlands.

 

 

 

(The title of this chapter was inspired by the quote, “Suffering is a gift. It is a hidden mercy,” by Jalel Al-Din Rumi.)

 

 

To be continued…

 

 


	3. A Pie and a Pint

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Three**

**A Pie and a Pint**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Craden-on-Monnow was your typical Welsh farming village. Picturesque hillsides of soft green dotted with small stone homes, sheep in every pasture, and poor villagers staring at us as we cruised by in our rather ostentatious SUV. The Black Mountains sat in the distance, silently observing us as we crept past one old farmstead after another, the roads so badly pitted and muddy that creeping was the highest speed we could safely travel.

 “Seriously, are we sure this is even a road?” Owen asked, cranking the wheel sharply to the left to avoid a muck-filled hole the size of our Range Rover. “Tosh?”

“Yes, Owen, it is a road,” she snapped from the back, her usually pleasant temper fraying under the steady litany of Owen’s bitching. My patience had snapped about ten kilometers back which was why I was reading over Welsh folklore on my mobile. “We need to take the right up here beside the Seeley Brook, then follow that up to the Hughes farm. They’re the ones who notified the police about their herd of sheep gone missing.”

“Flock,” I corrected, my attention diverted from the tales of the Mad Wolves of Cefn Hill. “It’s a _flock_ of sheep.”

“Ianto, no one cares,” Owen grumbled, taking the turn with more speed than required. “Call it a fucking pride for all I care.”

I swallowed down a tart comment.

_“When you get to the Hughes farm, make sure you contact Andras Hughes, he’s the one who called in the missing flock.”_

“Thank you,” I replied to Gwen’s tired voice in my ear.

_“Oh sure, what else have I got to do but sit here and watch you three have all the fun. Oh fuck. I just remembered where my purse is. It’s in the med lab.”_

I looked over at Owen. “She’ll be in the drink by noon,” I said. He nodded in silence, his brow deeply furrowed.

“Well, on the bright side, it’s a lovely warm day and we just passed a small pub where we can stop for lunch when we’re done poking about,” Tosh chirped up.

“Poking about in sheep shit,” Owen grumbled. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. We were moving past a beautiful old church, well-maintained, with a tall steeple. “Do I look like a bloody veterinarian?”

“Well, when you put on your white coat you kind of do,” Tosh giggled pulling a smile from me. Owen wasn’t the only one out of sorts. Jack’s mystery trip to India was sitting heavily on my shoulders. As a Torchwood agent, and a lowly one at that, I rationally understood that some things were above my security clearance levels. My heart was having a bit of trouble grasping that rational thinking though. It stung that Jack wouldn’t tell me what he was off to tend to. Yet, he had that right as my boss. Office romances were quite tricky I was finding out.

My gaze stayed on the church as we passed, my eyes drawn to a round stained-glass window of a black cross with a green heart in the center.

“That’s odd,” I mumbled, shifting around in the passenger seat, my attention on that glass cross.

“It’s an old church is all,” Owen said, slowing even more as we came to a sharp turn. I lost sight of the church. “How odd can a church be?”

“The cross was black,” I replied, wiggling around to face forward. “The color black is associated with death, mourning, illness, bad luck, and mystery. One usually doesn’t see a black cross in a church.”

“Maybe it just looked like it was black. Perhaps it was dark blue,” Tosh offered.

“Mm, yes, I suppose that’s possible. I recall reading about the Prussian black cross once. It’s a rather fascinating history. It was originally designed in 1813 by Karl Friedrich—”

“Ianto, no one cares,” Owen said, giving me one of his driest looks. “Not even Tosh cares but she’ll nod and smile like she does.”

“That’s not true! I _do_ care,” Toshiko replied but her reply lacked any real fire. “Everyone loves Prussian history.”

Thankfully the Hughes farm appeared on our left. Owen pulled up to the main house, a small home made from gray and tan stones. It sat facing a large barn, also crafted of the same tan and gray rock. The surrounding land was fenced in but there were no meandering white sheep to be seen. Opening the car door one certainly _smelled_ the animals. There was no denying we were on a sheep farm. The driveway was torn up, tire marks deep in the mud.

“Police have been here and left,” I commented as Tosh hustled to the back of the SUV to remove two of her favorite creations. One a handheld Rift reader, the other a scanning device the size of bar-code reader that picked up any residual alien sloughing, such as scales or dead skin.

_“Right! Yes, here I am. Found my purse and my ass is still dry. It’s the little things.”_

“You’ve already sent the amateurs off then I take it?” Owen said, turning in a slow circle, hand shielding his eyes from the sun, taking in the acres of lush countryside.

_“That I did. Ooo, look at the size of it…”_

“That’s what he said,” I mumbled and got disgusted looks from my teammates. “Sorry, Jack’s rubbing off on me.”

_“I was talking about my pill, choke a damn horse it will. Not used to swallowing something this big.”_

Our medic pointed a finger at me when I opened my mouth. “Don’t say it,” Owen warned. I nodded and bit back the comment. Owen went to rouse the homeowners but got no reply at the house or at the barn.

“We have a reasonably nice Rift reading over to the west,” Toshiko announced. “Shall we just to poke about a bit?” We fell in behind her, opening a wooden gate on squeaking hinges then picking our way through a field covered with sheep pellets.

I turned to look back over my shoulder a few times, wondering where the owners of the Hughes farm were. There was an old blue Leyland mini pickup sitting in the muddy drive, but no signs of anyone about. Perhaps they’d gone into town on foot, or they had another vehicle. Given the tracks the police had made, it would be impossible to tell. We traipsed along after Tosh for over an hour, taking samples of the soil where the Rift pulse had been strongest, then poking around gathering bits of urine and fecal matter for Owen to study back at the Hub. There were no signs of struggle. No scorch marks or lorry trails in the pasture. The sheep, it seemed, had just disappeared into thin air.

It was past noon. My stomach rumbled to remind me that I’d fasted since last night following Martha’s directions.

“Perhaps we could call it good?” I offered, stepping over a large puddle, my loafers already mud dappled and damp, the knees of my jeans caked with mud. Having a change of clothes at the Hub was always a good idea. “Stop at the pub and have a pie and a pint?”

“Yes, God yes, get me out of this damn place,” Owen said. We both looked at Tosh who was staring off into the distance, shaded by a rather large tree that had been split by lightning many years ago, her Rift scanner pointed down at her feet, beeping softly. “Toshiko, you ready to roll? We can be back in Cardiff by two, three at the latest if we get—”

“Do you hear that?” Tosh asked, spinning around, eyes wide, the breeze lifting fine strands of her hair. “Did you hear someone whispering…a song?”

 

To Be Continued…


	4. A Manly Poison

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Four**

**A Manly Poison**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

 

 

I glanced at Owen. He shrugged.

“Damn it, I heard something…” Toshiko stepped out of the shade and scanned the immediate area, her unease making me feel a little jumpy as well.

“Anything?” Owen asked, his jaw tight, his hand on the gun resting in his coat pocket.

“Nothing,” she sighed, lowering the scanner then thumbing some hair from her face. “Maybe we _do_ need to go have that pie and a pint. I’m having hunger hallucinations.”

 “Right. I’m all for that. Nothing here to report but some residual Rift energy. We’re off to eat. Fucking grass and sheep shit makes me break out in hives,” Owen grumbled as he stalked off.

Tosh stood at my side, her gaze faraway as Gwen and Owen chattered back and forth at each other.

“Sometimes the wind plays funny tricks on us, wuthering through the trees. When I was a lad we used to have an old oak tree that scratched my bedroom window on blustery nights.” I smiled at the recollection playing out in my mind. “I can’t tell you how many times I would run to my mum saying that the tree had been talking to me, when in actuality it was—”

_“Canu wnaf am gariad Iesu,_ ” she muttered, her sight moving from the far-off hills to me. I stared at her openly. It was rather a known fact that neither she, Owen, or Jack spoke Welsh. Jack tried but he mangled it so badly I had made him vow to never try to speak it again. The wind rolling over the fields felt warm on my cheeks despite the sudden chill tickling my spine. “That was the song I heard,” she said, her eyes darting around the pasture. “What does it mean?”

“The song or the fact that you thought you heard it?”

“I _did_ hear it!” She spun in a circle. “I heard it clear as day but now…”

“Wuthering trees,” I offered, hoping to soothe her worry a bit. “I would sing thy love, my savior.”

“What?”

“That verse you mentioned, that’s what it is in English,” I replied, wishing suddenly that I’d left with Owen. “It’s not overly important. Just thought you’d like to know. Shall we go have lunch? Everything will settle when you’ve got a pie and a pint in you.”

She nodded, a forced smile on her face, and began walking, glancing back at me and the tree every so often. Owen was waiting for us at the gate, his expression quite telling.

“About damn time,” he huffed, slinging himself toward the SUV.

“Someone is angry about someone else being in someone’s sandbox,” I mumbled.

“That was incredibly vague,” Tosh said at my side, her shoulders a little less tense now that we’d left the split tree far behind us.

_“And back! What did I miss? Ianto, any chance we can move the coffee station down to the lounge area?”_

“I’m not sure I can clear that without speaking to Jack first,” I told Gwen back at base.

“And we can’t do that because no one knows where he is. Don’t you get fed the _fuck_ up with him darting off all the time? I mean, you two are a _couple_ now,” Owen barked at me, clearly out of sorts about Gwen being the boss and the boss being typically Jack. “Seems he’d at least have the decency not to disappear and leave you behind like a mangy mutt.”

That one hit right in the bullseye. The bastard. “Oh, you mean like Diane did you?”

Owen’s rage flared bright white and he made a lunge at me. I gave him a sound shove. Toshiko pushed her way between us, arms up, chin set.

“Stop it!” Tosh shouted, pressing her hands to my shoulders and gently pushing me back a few steps. “What is wrong with you two?”

_“Testosterone poisoning. Rots all male brains. Oh look at that! My toes are sparkly green.”_

“You don’t have the right to talk about Diane,” Owen snarled as he paced to work off his ire. “You don’t have a fucking clue what we had!”

“Just as you don’t know what Jack and I have,” I fired back, Tosh’s fingers biting into my shoulders. “Jack tells me everything.”

“Right, except where he’s going and why. Great relationship you’ve got there,” Owen yelled over his shoulder, his long legs taking him down the drive.

“Okay, that’s enough. Ianto, no, let him walk it off. He’s just got his nose bent over Gwen and he’s taking it out on you,” Tosh said, patting my shoulders now instead of grasping them.

_“You do know I can every word you two are saying about me in my earpiece, right?”_ Owen asked as he stalked off, his earpiece then torn off and tossed into a culvert before he made the bend and disappeared from sight.

_“Did someone say my name? Tosh, my toes are sparkly. And green. Oh! I’ve leprechaun toes!”_ Gwen gasped then fell into a fit of giggles and snorts _. “Got them toes from a leprechaun. No, no, not like I cut off a wee one’s toes and shoved them in my shoes. How can I see through my trainers?!”_

“She’s obviously taken too many pain killers,” Tosh sighed, releasing me then slowly turning to stare off in the direction Owen had gone. “Let’s just take a moment to calm down, get into the SUV, drive down to the pub and have lunch. I’m sure he’ll be there when we arrive.”

“Jack and I have a good relationship. He tells me things,” I said because I had to defend what I had with Jack. It was a sound commitment, sturdy, and had been growing into something deeper and deeper over the past year or so.

“I know he does,” she replied with a shifty little smile that seemed rather placating to me. I was tempted to shout that I knew where he was. Me. Not them. Jack had told _me_ because I was that special to him. I had no clue what he was doing in India, but at least I knew he was there.

“I need a pint,” I stated dully, stalking to the SUV then ripping open the driver’s side door. “You drive. I want to hear the shitter bitch when he has to adjust the seat.”

“You’re wicked,” she replied with a sparkle in her eye.

_“My toes feel funny. Do you see my toes? Anyone here have toe knowledge? Toe be toe be toe.”_

I rolled my eyes at Gwen’s singing as I dropped into the passenger seat, grinning wickedly when Tosh moved the driver seat up a foot, fiddled with the recline, and both mirrors.

The ride to the pub was a short one. The church appeared to be open to the public now, the old wooden door standing open. The cross looked just as darkly black. I planned to make a quick trip into the old chapel, snap a few images of that cross, and do some research on its meaning when I was home tonight, alone, in my flat, alone. Fuck.

“There he is,” Tosh whispered when we entered the small pub. The bar was in the corner, and several small tables filled the rest of the front room. The aroma of warm food and cold beer greeted me like an old friend. “Come on, let’s go have some lunch. Be nice, okay?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, wondering why it fell to me to always be the nice one. Just once I’d like to be the prick. We sat down and Owen pushed a tall glass of dark beer to me.

“Sorry about earlier.” He tapped at the glass. “Sometimes the lack of seniority recognition on this job pisses me right off.”

“Tell me about it,” Tosh whispered, her gaze lifting to me then falling back on the napkin she was spreading over her lap. “Did you order any food?”

“Yeah, three of the lamb and leek pies and our pints,” Owen replied, his dark eyes moving from the window to Tosh.

I nodded in thanks and lifted my glass. The beer was strong and hoppy. Gwen was now singing “Toe-La-Ru-La-Toe-Glow” in our ears. She was terribly off-key and giggly.

There were two other patrons in here, both seated at the bar, eying us warily. The sun was shining in several windows, throwing the front room into brilliant brightness. No barkeep was to be seen but the sounds of pots clattering in a kitchen leeched out into the sunny dining room.

“Nice place,” I said lowering my glass back to the table. The walls had all manner of old pictures hanging on them. One caught my eye, an old photograph of the town chapel, and so I pushed back from the table and pattered over to the corner to give it a closer look. The church looked much the same as it did now, aside from the round stained-glass window. Back in the day it had been a typical white Anglican cross. I leaned closer to the photograph, to see if I could make out the faces of the people standing just inside the door. The rays that had so warmed me slipped off my face as I stepped out of the sun. My eyes rather enjoyed the shift into the shadows.

 That was when I heard the singing…

 

To Be Continued…

 


	5. The Giants You Face

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Five**

**The Giants You Face**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

_“Yr arglwydd yn fwy na'r cewri rydych yn eu hwynebu.”_

The Lord is greater than the giants you face.

 

The psalm slipped into my subconscious, in a soft chorus of voices that rose in volume and vibrancy until I winced, the pain snapping the hold the words had held me in. I stumbled in reverse, heart thundering in my chest, eyes wide, gaze darting around the room to find the singers. Of course, there were none. I blinked at the sun beating on my face, my eyes watering, and spun in circles, confused, and shaken to my core.

“Ianto, you alright mate?” Owen called from our table, his arm slung over the back of his chair nonchalantly. I hurried to the table, tripping over a chair that I’d not seen in my haste. “You’re a cheap date.”

“I heard it,” I whispered anxiously to my teammates once my ass was in my seat. I found Tosh’s confused gaze and held it. “The voices singing psalms.”

Her eyes flared. “Where? How? I need to take readings.”

“Why don’t I ever hear these psalms?” Owen asked as Tosh shot to her feet.

“Your soul is beyond redemption?” I asked with feigned innocence. Owen thought for a moment, nodded, and returned to sipping his ale. “Over here.”

I led Tosh to the corner but refused to step into the shadows. Once of hearing that was enough before I had my pie, thank you very much. Using my bigger body to hide her, I angled myself in a way that Tosh could scan the corner without drawing attention from the locals.

“Nothing, not even a residual blip of Rift energy or any other kind of time or space anomaly,” she whispered after we made a show of looking at the picture and commenting loudly about how lovely the chapel was.

“You heard it though, when you were there in the shadows?” I asked discreetly as I pushed her chair back into the table. She looked over her shoulder at me and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, no, I didn’t. But you two didn’t hear my song when we were in the pasture,” Tosh said then fell into silence when a chubby older woman in a smock delivered our lunches.

We all thanked her then fell into silence as we started to eat. I poked a hole into the top crust of my pie, steam billowed out and tickled my nose, the aroma of onions, bay, and thyme making my stomach rumble. Odd how one could eat ten minutes after having the shit scared out of them.

“I think we should go back to the pasture so I can take deeper readings in the shadow of that split tree,” Tosh said after we’d all had a few bites and time to gather ourselves.

“Oh no, come on, Tosh, why?” Owen whined, forking a huge chunk of carrot angrily. “Chasing down your biblical hallucinations is bollocks.”

“What we need to do is find the farmer who called in about the sheep and prod him a bit about their disappearance,” I offered up as I fished out a chunk of lamb and began chewing on it. “Owen and I could do a sweep of the house, barn, and out buildings while you run some scans on the tree and its shadow.”

“That’s a good idea. I wonder if there might be some sort of sonic resonance that’s making an auditory shift in sound waves. If I can adjust the bandwidth on my scanner, and tweak up the ability of it to find sub-human transmissions, perhaps we can—”

“Are you two listening to what’s coming out of your mouths?! Seriously. We’re going to go scan a fucking tree to see if it’s transmitting alien church music?” Owen gave us both scathing looks.

“We’ve all encountered odder things,” I stated and stabbed a leek with my fork.

“He’s got you there,” Tosh softy replied, her pie sitting there barely untouched aside from several bites of crust and carrot she’d fished out.

“And here I was hoping we’d get to go home. Why don’t we ask the boss? Gwen, what’s your call?” He asked then cussed when he realized he’d tossed his earpiece into a culvert. “Do either of you have a spare?”

Toshiko rolled her eyes but dug into her purse, pulling out a sleek silver bit of tech that Owen crammed into his right ear.

“Right, Gwen, what’s your call on this?” he asked once more.

_“Ooo, wee froggies dancing on the lily pads, toes as green as cock feathers. Oops, I said cock out loud! Cock, cock, cock, cock, cock-a-doodle toes!”_

“Nothing like top-notch leadership,” Owen huffed while Gwen roared in laughter then fell into hiccups. “We’re on our own here, and as the senior agent, I’m taking over command until such time as our interim leader can stop sniggering at her bloody toes.”

That made sense so I nodded in agreement as did Tosh. I kept eating, the pie incredibly tasty and seasoned perfectly. God, I did love a good pie.

“So what I’m suggesting is that we split up,” Owen said around a mouthful of pie. “Tosh you can go scan the tree, I’ll go do sweep of the house, and Ianto you go poke about in the church you were so interested in. We’ll meet back here. Then we’re going back to Cardiff and I’m not coming back out of the city for at least another year.”

“Okay, that’s sensible,” I replied then glanced at Tosh. She nodded, sipped her pint, and picked most of the carrots out of her pie before shoving what remained to me. I fell on it like a hungry jackal, washing it down with the remains of my ale before we haggled over the bill. Owen tossed the receipt to me.

“Make sure I get reimbursed for that,” he said as we made our way back out into the sunshine. The sun was canted lower in the sky, the shadows lengthening as the day crept toward dusk. Our late lunch would have to suffice as dinner as well.

“Jack does reimbursements,” I reminded him, taking the keys to the SUV out of my pocket and unlocking the rear so that Tosh could access her toys. “I’m the archivist and only get access to accounts after all taxes have been paid to the Crown.”

“Lovely, whatever. Just make sure I get paid back. Right!” He clapped his hands. “I’m off to scare up some farmers. Don’t make me dally about for too long. I’m being as pleasant as I can be but I will not hesitate to leave for home without you two if you’re not back here when I’m ready to roll.”

Off he went back up the dirt road to the Hughes farm. I slid the keys into my front pocket then patted them to make sure they’d fallen _into_ my pocket. We’d lost the SUV more than once by leaving the keys in the ignition, the memory of that camping trip going horribly, horribly wrong appeared and I hurried to swat it away. I’d also lost count of how many times Jack had lost them simply by tossing them somewhere or missing one of the countless pockets on his coat.

“Okay, I’m off as well. Ianto, be careful. I have a bad feeling about this town,” Tosh said, hoisting her bag of gizmos higher onto her shoulder.

“You be mindful as well. I’m sure a trip to a lovely old chapel will be the safest route of all three of our trips.” I smiled down at her but she didn’t appear to fully buy my reassuring look.

We walked along side-by-side, until we reached the church then we parted ways.

“Tosh! Try to avoid the shadows,” I called after her. She paused, gave me a long look, and then rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. “Okay, good. Gwen, I’m going into the churchyard now.”

Nothing. I tapped my earpiece. Still nothing. Then I heard the soft snores.

“Might better have left Grubby in charge,” I grumbled under my breath and stepped through a rickety gate in a crumbling flagstone wall.

To the left was a stone bench and some scraggly rose bushes in a round little flowerbed, to the right a small path leading down a knoll to the local cemetery. I eyed the front door of the church warily. The stone archway over the thick wooden doors had the faces of angels protruding from the stonework. Weather had worn away some of the angel’s features, so that many of them now had gaping holes where noses had been, and wide screaming mouths filled with pitted stone. Disquieting to say the least, as was the vestibule waiting for me just past the howling angels.

The deeply shadowed vestibule…

 

To be continued...


	6. Ringing the Dinner Bell

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Six**

**Ringing the Dinner Bell**

 (Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

As I stood outside in the sun, the lines of Biblical verse that I had heard when no singers could be seen branded in my mind forever, I mulled over the subtle differences between myself and my lover.

If I were in Jack’s boots, I’d be inside that church by now, tossing bon mots while torching the interior with a flame thrower all while looking incredibly sexy and not the least bit charred. I’d seen that scenario more than once.

As it was, I was _not_ in Jack’s boots, I was in my old trainers, sheep shit stains on my knees, with only a handgun and my wits. Some might see me dawdling out here and think me cowardly, as true manly men barreled into danger guns blazing. I found running face first into an unknown situation to be foolhardy at best. “The better part of valor is discretion; in the which better part, I have saved my life”, to quote Falstaff. There is a wide chasm between prudence and gutless. Also, one small point to add is that Jack cannot die, and I can. Just a tiny thing that.

Opting to do a bit of surveillance before sashaying into the church, I slipped around the back, running a keen eye over the building as Gwen snored in my ear. The other two were quiet for the most part, aside from Owen’s unintelligible grumblings about wind, air, grass, and honey bees.

The place looked sound, if rather run down, but not in any danger of collapse. There were no signs of alien invasion such as body parts scattered about or globs of blue goo seeping through the windows. I’d seen that once as well. Truly, I was becoming jaded. Little surprised me anymore with this job. A pile of freshly sawed lumber sat along the rear entrance.

“Good afternoon!” I spun around, gun in hand, and drew down on an old man in clerical clothing. His gray eyes went wide with fright. I quickly lowered my weapon, cheeks hot with shame. “Forgive me for startling you. I saw your shadow pass by my office window and was hoping for a small break from the tedium of penning this week’s sermon.”

“My apologies, vicar.”

“I’d thought the police long gone.” He padded closer. I could see nothing about him that set off any warning bells, no antennae or nictitating eyelids, fangs, extra appendages, or worms dangling out of his ears. I’d seen that before as well. No, the only thing hanging out of his rather large ears were kinky gray hairs. “Can I interest you in coming inside out of this sun? I’ve got some lemonade in the icebox. Or would you prefer tea?”

“Tea, yes, tea is fine but I do need to just complete my perimeter sweep,” I said, hoping I sounded like a constable in some manner. “Perhaps some other time?”

“Oh yes, that’s fine. Fine. Let me walk with you. I’d much rather enjoy the beauty of our roses than be stuck in that stuffy office.” He smiled up at me, hands clasped behind his back, and fell in beside me as I began walking. “Do you have a name, young man?”

“Ianto Jones,” I replied automatically, shoving my gun back into my jacket pocket.

“That’s a fine Welsh name. You may call me Reverend Farthing.”

That brought me up short. “Farthing as in that old sitcom _Dad’s Army?”_

“Hmm, oh yes, well I suppose so.” He smiled at me, his teeth uneven but startling white.

“My father used to love that show,” I mused, memories of sitting on the floor beside my dad’s favorite chair as he chuckled over the antics of the Home Guard rising up quickly. The vicar said something, not sure what, as my ears suddenly began humming. I paused, midstride, and threw a look down at my feet. One shoe rested in the creeping shadow of the church. Nearly bowling over Vicar Farthing, I leaped away from the darkness.

“Bee in your bonnet?” he asked then chuckled, reaching out to steady me.

“No, sorry, sorry, just misplaced my step.”

“Ah, well, this old sod isn’t going to complain overly much about a shoe track. I keep asking the church for more money to tend to the soggy ground, but they tend to allocate funds to the bigger churches with the richer congregations. Saint Callwen’s is a modest parish, with dwindling members due to the youth moving to the big cities, but we do manage. They’ve at least granted us funds for a daycare area which will be a boon to the locals who—"

“Have you heard or seen anything out of the ordinary of late?” I asked, my pulse thumping madly, the shadows growing longer and longer as the day grew older. “Sorry to interrupt, Vicar, but the sheep disappearance is quite odd, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, yes, of course. I suspect hooligans, coming in a night with lorries and sheep treats.”

I stopped dead and glanced down at the old man with the crisp white collar. “Sheep treats?”

“Mm, yes, they’re partial to tiny biscuits aren’t they?”

“I uhm, I wouldn’t know.” We’d reached the front of the church. I glanced at the shaded little patch of roses and the at the faces on the stone arch, then, unbidden, my gaze travelled to the vestibule again. “So you suspect thieves with sheep treats.”

“I do. Local sheep gangs. Nasty things. So, shall we sit among the roses?” He waved at the stone bench. “Or would you like the coolness of the church? It is getting a bit warm out here.”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m ah – I’m due back to meet the other detectives.” I pulled out my stopwatch, opened it, and then quickly shut it. “Yes, we’re to meet up in ten minutes.” That was a lie. Would my soul rot in hell for lying to a man of the cloth? My mother would be appalled.

“They sent detectives for a sheep rustling?”

“It’s a plague as you said, so yes, a sheep rustling task force has been set up.”

“And they called it Torchwood?”

“How did you know that’s the name of our task force?”

“It’s on the big black SUV parked in front of the pub.”

Oh. Yes, of course. Someday I’d get to the bottom of why the name of our secret organization was on everything from our car to our pens.

“Yes, that’s right. Torchwood, the sheep task force.” I heard Owen sniggering in my ear. Tosh softly snickered. Gwen snored on. “So, I’ll have to pass on the tea. Thank you for your time, Reverend Farthing.”

“Any time, my son. Don’t be a stranger.” He called out as I jogged out of the church yard, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I skidded to a halt in the middle of the road, nerves more than a bit frayed.

“So are we setting up sheep pens down in the cells?” Owen called as he strutted down the road, his jacket tossed over his shoulder.

“Shut up,” I replied curtly, getting a gruff laugh from our medic. Toshiko waved at us from the SUV, her smile wide and friendly. “It was spur of the moment.”

“We could tell,” Tosh giggled as I neared her. I popped the locks and we waited for her to stash her goodies in the back. “Did any of you find anything?”

“Not a damn thing,” Owen huffed, throwing his coat into the back. I did as well after sliding my gun into the back of my jeans and tugging my old polo shirt down to cover the bulge the best that I could. “The house is empty. Beds unmade, pots on the stove. Had to turn off the fire under a kettle of beans. Barn empty as well as the spring house and the garage.”

“That’s odd,” I said as Tosh pulled off her sweater and laid it over several black boxes that she had locked tightly. “Perhaps they went to the nearest police station with the local constables?”

“Gwen, darling, any chance you can wake up and tell us what the police are doing?” Owen asked, waited, and then made a face. “Remind me when we get back to the Hub to take those pills and feed them to the squonk.”

“Hey now, that’s magical creature abuse,” I quickly said, pulling a snort from Toshiko.

“I got nothing either,” Tosh interjected as Owen tried to rouse Gwen.

“Did you check the tree’s shadow?”

“Yes, of course, and there was nothing left of the shadow but a weak sliver. The sun has moved too much. All I saw were a cloud of motes.”

“Oh for God sake, she’s out cold,” Owen said. “Let’s poke our heads inside and see if anyone in there has any idea as to where the Hughes family is. If they don’t, I say we go home. I’m bloody tired of walking around in mud and sheep shit.”

Tosh and I nodded in agreement. We’d not get much more information here. It ate at me that I’d not taken the chance to get inside the church and study that cross in close detail. Take some pictures of it perhaps…

“Hello?!” Tosh shouted as we walked back into the pub. The smell of onions and beer was still thick on the air. The sunshine that had filled the front room was now nothing more than a thin strip of golden light shining on the far wall. The beam was thick with dust motes. They swirled and danced on the air flowing in the open door, almost as if they were alive, like a flock of sparrows or a cluster of small fish in the ocean.

“Rush hour is over,” Owen joked, jogging over to the bar, and levering his lean upper half over the bar top. “Anyone here? We’d like a damn word please?”

I stood transfixed, my sight unable to leave the cloud of motes that seemed to be trying to move out of the light. The door drifted shut and Toshiko walked past, stirring up the bits of dust even more. She disappeared into the kitchen, calling out to the help. Owen poured himself a draft, his feet dangling a foot off the floor. I pulled my gun, the humming in my ears beginning to grow louder as the slice of sunlight grew thinner and thinner, and the motes appeared angrier and angrier. They moved in a tempestuous manner, like a swarm of hornets, the cloud thickening as more motes from the growing shadows joined the horde.

“Tosh, Owen, these dust motes…” I began to say when Toshiko screamed. Owen dropped his beer, the glass falling to the bar and shattering as he slid down to the floor and raced back into the kitchen, my gun stayed on the swarm of tiny motes as I backed into the food prep area.

“Bloody hell,” Owen growled. I threw him a look then followed his line of sight down to the barmaid lying on the floor beside the cook. Or what I had to assume was the barmaid and cook, they were only skeletons, the bones picked clean of flesh.

“What did this?” Tosh barked, pulling out her weapon while Owen dropped to one knee to poke at the bloody skull resting by my left foot.

“Not a clue, but it looks like a damn school of piranha worked over these poor women,” our medic replied, nudging at the bones with a pencil. “Tosh, give it a scan.”

“My scanners are in the SUV.”

The humming in my ears was now so loud it was making my eyes water. “The motes,” I murmured. “The motes are a part of this. When is sundown?”

“What? Motes? What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Ianto?” Owen nervously snapped.

“When is sundown?” I asked again, my gun trained on the door leading from the kitchen to the front room.

“About four minutes from now,” Tosh answered, her voice high and tight. “The motes?”

“The motes are angry,” I whispered, the humming inside my head churning and congealing into more than buzzing. It was changing into a psalm just as the bells at Saint Callwen’s rang out like a dinner bell.

 

 

To be continued...


	7. A Lamp Unto My Feet

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Seven**

**A Lamp unto My Feet**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

“Turn on the lights!” I shouted, moving in reverse until my ass smacked into a table. A pan rolled to its side then fell to the floor, adding a painful burst of sound that nearly buckled my knees. The bells, the humming, the psalm, and the clatter of the pot was overloading my brain. The overhead light flickered on, a measly fluorescent bulb, throwing a small rectangle of light to the kitchen floor. “Hurry, into the light.”

I reached out for Owen, jerking him away from the bodies to his feet by his collar. He stumbled back into me, knocking me out of the four by eight – if that – patch of light. I threw a look back at Tosh. She was heading to the door, out into the evening.

“Tosh, no!” I shouted, breaking out of our small safety zone just as the motes exploded into action, appearing from out of the darkness to swarm Tosh. She screamed, flailing about madly as one would when they’d run headfirst into a dangling bee’s nest. I threw an arm around her waist, the motes singing so loudly I swore I’d go deaf. None too gently I half-carried her back to the rectangle of light, setting her down on her feet. Her arms were coated with blood, the flesh scored and shredded.

“Holy fuck,” Owen gasped, reaching out quickly to grab several old dishtowels hanging over the edge of a huge stainless double sink. “Are you okay, luv? Talk to me.”

Tosh nodded, her cheeks slick with tears. I wiped at the blood trickling down my cheeks and brow, my skin on fire where the motes had bitten into my skin.

“What the hell…are those things?” Tosh enquired shakily as Owen wrapped her forearms in dish towels.

“No clue,” I replied, my head ringing with old verses of ancient songs no modern church sang anymore. “Do not step out of the light.” The motes circled us, nipping at a finger or elbow if it slid into the darkness, the pain similar to a bee sting. “Tosh, any chance you have something in your bag that can link us up to the Hub’s computers? Jack must have something on these dust motes in his personal files.”

“I can access my data banks via my phone, but not Jack’s personal files. Those are above my security clearance. Ouch, damn it burns like acid. Be gentle,” she hissed as Owen tended to her. He tutted her tenderly, his bedside manner a bit gruff but kind.

“I have access to his files,” I calmly stated. Both my teammates looked at me in something like awe laced with envy. “Just get us into the Hub’s computer before the damn light bulb burns out.”

“Right, yes,” Toshiko coughed, tapping away at her phone with shaky, bloody fingers. Owen and I, for some ridiculous reason, decided that holding our guns on the churning cloud of carnivorous dust was the thing to do. “Okay, I’m into the mainframe. Just let me…shit, my head is so cloudy. All I can hear is that damn song.”

“Who taught these things to sing in Welsh? Why not a proper language? One with fewer vowels?” Owen shifted a little, aiming at the cloud as it circled us steadily.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to sod off when the face of the vicar popped into my cramped mind. The bells outside were still ringing. How long had it been now? Why? God but it was hard to focus with the increasingly shrill voices in my skull.

“The vicar…” I murmured.

“I’m in! Tell me Jack’s password,” Tosh said, her voice shaky.

“No, I can’t. Give me the phone.” I held out a hand.

“For fuck _sake,_ Ianto!” Owen barked. “Just tell Tosh Jack’s password so we can get into the fucking computer! That’s an order.”

“Sorry, no, I can’t. Give me the phone. Do it!” I shouted, throwing a dark look at Tosh. I felt badly instantly but this was no time to be worrying about hurt feelings. She slapped her mobile into my hand. I passed my gun to her. “Thank you.”

I fed in Jack’s password and his internal files lit up the screen. The vibrations of bells, song, and swarm were overwhelming. I had to stop my searches several times to shake off the need to simply give into the pain and lay down on the floor with my arms over my head.

“Psalms, shadows,” I muttered, pulling up file after file. I had to stop and rest my eyes, the cacophony inside my head blurring my vision. “Come on, come on, come on. There must be something in here…”

“Try a different search. Try motes or dust,” Tosh suggested behind me. Owen began to sway a bit, some sort of instinctual behavior to ease his suffering. Each time he moved into me, my elbow slid into the shadows and the motes were on me. I’d inhale and jerk, my fingers swiping over the screen which set me back.

“Stand still,” I snapped at Owen. He froze, barrel of his gun aimed at the darkness. “Right, here we are. Flesh-eating dust motes. Vashta Nerada.”

“Gesundheit,” Owen said, trying to be flip, but given the situation it fell a bit flat.

“How do we kill them?” Tosh asked.

“And how the hell do they know Welsh?” Owen enquired.

“Microscopic spores live in forested areas in wood pulp,” I stopped reading to blink away the tears. This wasn’t exactly a heavily forested area, but the Black Mountains were nearby and there were certainly some thick areas of woodland. Perhaps someone had brought in some wood for building…damn it was so hard to think clearly! “Obviously they’ve found a way to communicate with humans. Something in here, back a page or so…about large concentrations being able to form a group mind of sorts. Jack recommends fire as a means to eradicate them. Well of course he does…”

“Fire? That’s Jack in and out!” Owen shouted, the fluorescent blubs overheard flickering. I glanced up, my eyes watering steadily, my head feeling as if it might explode. And the fucking church bells were still ringing. Why, in the name of God…?

“The church, the vicar. They must have heard the psalms, copied them, perhaps used them to lure prey out of the light and into the dark,” Tosh hypothesized.

“Yes, the church. It’s about to get a new addition. I saw the lumber lying out back. We have to lead the swarm back to the church, get the lumber inside, and burn it down with the swarm,” I said, eying the back door while trying to judge our chances.

“Wonderful. So much for my stellar record of monkish behavior getting me into heaven,” Owen tossed out, spinning on his heel and popping off a round that blew the doorknob to bits. The door creaked open. He looked at me, eyes slick with tears. “We go as a whole, Tosh between us.”

“I don’t need two men to protect me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she snarled, handing my gun back to me then taking her cell back. “I have a mobile with a flashlight app. I go last to keep them at bay until we’re out the door. Then we dash to the SUV for the flamethrower.”

“I have a torch app on my phone as well,” I said, setting in to argue, but Tosh’s firm look quieted my chauvinistic tongue. I handed her my mobile. “Best to use two.”

“Right then, Gwen, you awake there darling?” Owen asked as we all turned to face the open doorway. The swarm rolled and swirled like an eddy in a dark stream, waiting…

I heard her mumble in her sleep. “She’s out for the count. Gwen, this is Ianto. If you wake up and can’t contact us, make sure Jack gets this final message.” I glanced at the evening setting in over Cradon-on-Morrow, my emotions lodged in my throat. “Jack, I love you and I’m sorry for being so horribly anal about things. I hope you don’t forget me over time. I…I pray that you don’t.”

Owen patted me on the shoulder, and on the count of three we raced to the door, Tosh pulling up the rear, waving the cells in crazy arcs to confuse the swarm. The cooling air enveloped us, easing the bite marks on my face a bit. We bolted to the Range Rover, leaping into the SUV, Tosh in the front, me in the back, and Owen behind the wheel.

“Close the vents!” Toshiko shouted. Owen cranked over the engine, closed the ventilation system and turned on the headlights. The interior lights as well were glowing. The motes slammed into the windows, the song softening a bit now that there was a barrier between us and them. “Okay, Ianto, we need Jack’s toy from the back. Grab the small black case as well, the one with the yellow striping. I’m going to try to get a sample of these motes before we destroy them all.”

 _“What?!”_ Owen and I said in unison as I hung over the seat pawing at the various hard plastic cases in the rear.

“We’ll need to know how they propagate and that will require a living sample to experiment on,” she replied with some real sass.

“What if they’re sentient?” I asked, tugging the long case the flamethrower was in over the headrest. It landed on the empty seat beside me with a dull thud. Why that suddenly was a concern I had no clue. Where had the notion even come from? Had the idea come from the aliens? Some sort of hive mind telepathic ability much like the psalms to make me doubt our course of action?

“We’re going to burn them to a crisp,” Owen said, cranking over the engine then flooring the gas. “They’re a danger to this planet. Imagine the carnage if they continue to grow and reproduce unchecked. They’ve wiped out this damn village and all the livestock. I say we simply stamp them all out now and save the human population in the process. So, no samples to take back to Cardiff. If they were to escape…”

“Yes, of course, I just…they should be studied,” Tosh sighed, rubbing at her brow with her bloody fingers. “I’m not sure what I’m saying anymore. Please, if I do something stupid…”

“We’ll grab a tit. That will snap you out of any stupor you fall into. “He gave her a wink. She gifted him with a reedy smile. I opened the case and began assembling the portable flamethrower. “So, we ready to crash the church and condemn ourselves to eternal hell?”

“Ready,” I replied as we picked up speed, the bells still pealing madly, the small compressed gas tank snapping into place with a “click” that meant we were ready to cleanse the shadows. Or be eaten alive. I was hoping for the first outcome.

 

 

To Be Concluded…

 


	8. The Cleansing Flames

**Psalms from the Shadows (Ianto Solo)**

**Chapter Eight**

**The Cleansing Flames**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

The old rock fence was no match for over two thousand pounds of steel. We lost a headlight and the front bumper and the grill was mangled, but the Range Rover crawled over the debris without dropping in speed.

“Drop me off in front and I’ll round up the vicar,” Tosh shouted, her hands splayed on the dash to keep her face from the meeting the windshield.

“Right, we’ll whip round back, grab the lumber, toss it into the back, drive around front, gather you two up, and then someone will set fire to the church,” Owen threw out, cranking the wheel sharply to avoid a birdbath. Running through rock fence was fine but taking out a plastic birdbath was something to be avoided. That man’s mind at time. “Or we can just sail into the church, grab the old duff, back out and blaze things up. I vote for option two.”

Tosh and I never got a chance to vote. The SUV crashed through the small vestibule and into the church proper, flowers and hymnals flying as we took out at least two rows of pews. The interior was well lit so we leaped out, racing to the brightest area in the church, directly under a large wooden cross hanging on the old stone wall. I threw the front of the church a glance, my finger on the trigger of the flamethrower, and stared at the dark cross. Black as the night it was, there was no mistaking it with so much light shining on it.

“Tosh, go find the vicar, we’re going to lay down a fire line!” Owen yelled, nudging me along, the bells still ringing overhead.

“What in the name of the almighty is going on in here?!” I heard Reverend Farthing shouting a moment later. I glanced over my shoulder, the fire arcing form the gun in a wide berth, the new wooden floor in what was to be the daycare center igniting like kindling. “No! Madmen! No!”

The vicar ran at me. A tussle broke out between him and Owen, one that Owen lost only because the vicar waffled him across the head with a brass candlestick.

“Ianto, the motes!” Tosh shouted, her eyes wide with fright. The swarm hit the glowing perimeter of electric and candlelight and the singing in my head tripled in volume. Owen gave the vicar a rather nasty shove. The old man ran at me, bloody candlestick in hand.

“No, no, vile destroyer of God’s minions! This shall not pass!” I ducked, my finger slipping off the trigger. I used the wand as a weapon, the smoking hot perforated steel cracking the old gent in the temple. He winced but kept coming as the swarm buzzed around us, the flames now licking up the back wall, singing the feet of Jesus. “They are the harbingers of the holy spirit! Hear them singing?! They speak to me, the message of the psalms, the voice of God. I do their bidding, clean up the remains, and they sing to me in the voice of God. Wicked heathens!”

Owen shot in the air, a warning shot, his face covered with blood. Toshiko was in the SUV, engine revving, screaming at us to move it. The vicar, for reasons only he, his god, and his demented mind knew, spun from me, the fire now roaring, the psalms changing from song to agonized screams, and threw himself into the flames that were engulfing the Vashta Nerada.

“No!” I bellowed, dropping the flamethrower. Owen grabbed me, jerking me back from the man who was kneeling under the cloud of dying motes, his head bowed as the flames swallowed him and the aliens.

“Get in the damn car!” Owen shouted, the roar of the fire deafening. We leaped into the SUV, Tosh slammed it into reverse, and we sped backward over rubble and beams, the church going up like a wick in an oil lamp. Old wood tended to burn quickly.

“The lumber round back,” I reminded them but Owen seemed to think that the fire would catch that pile as well. Given how intense the flames were, perhaps he was right. We could only pray it was so. When we were back in the road, the SUV a bit worse for wear, we sat there, breathless and sore, watching fire eat the old church. The steeple collapsed inward, sending sparks into the new night sky. The bell stopped ringing and the singing/buzzing in my head was now just a soft murmur, like the afterglow of a migraine. Remembered pain.

“I’ll summon the local fire company,” I whispered, digging into my pocket for my mobile. “Tosh, my phone.”

“Yes, right sorry.” She sat behind the steering wheel, her forearms swollen and weeping, her lips dry and cracked, her gaze locked on the fire. “I’m not sure how we explain this one to the local authorities.”

“Well that’s the upside of being Torchwood. We don’t have to explain a damn thing,” Owen said, his head falling back to the headrest, his eyes drifting shut.

“We can say it was a gas leak,” I offered, waiting for my mobile. Tosh just continued to stare at the fiery skeleton. “And that the people were affected by the fumes and filed into the church where they all died in the fire.”

Owen rolled his head to the side to look at me in the back. “Or we simply flash them our badges and tell them to clean up the tut.”

“It’s what Jack would do,” Tosh murmured and I had to agree. Yes, it was exactly what Jack would do. So, we did that, after the call was made and I lied about a gas leak. We met the police and fire company and told them absolutely nothing of any real import. After some sputtering and dark looks, we left, Tosh at the wheel, and didn’t look back, even though the orange glow could be seen in the dark sky for several miles. No one said anything for twenty minutes or so.

“Are we sure the lumber pile caught?” I asked when it became impossible not to ask. Anal yes, I am, I own that. “Perhaps we should go back tomorrow to ensure.”

“If you want to do that, Ianto, then you can. I for one am not setting foot out of Cardiff for two years. It was one but after our day today, it’s two. So the next time someone’s pigs go off missing, don’t expect me to trot along to the country.”

Tosh looked at me in the rearview mirror, exhaustion and pain etched into her face. I gave Owen a long, sour look but fell silent. I’d come out tomorrow alone and check. If not, I’d set it alight to make sure. It’s what Jack would do. My eyes grew tired so I let them drift shut, my thoughts sluggish, returning as they always did to Jack. What was he doing in India? Was he safe? Was he thinking of me?

I startled awake when we were pulling into the secret underground lot, the speed bumps jarring me from a distracted dream where shadows chased the living. We limped into the Hub, a trio of sooty, filthy, bloody agents, to find Gwen sleeping on the floor under her work station. One of her trainers was missing.

I lifted her up from the damp floor, her head lolling about then coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Lay her out on a cot,” Owen said, leading Tosh into the medical bay after me. After depositing Gwen to a bed, I peeled off my shirt and washed my face, the hundreds of minuscule bite marks lighting up as if I’d poured kerosene on them. I tried not to hear Tosh’s gasps of pain as Owen cleaned and bandaged her arms then sent her to a cot as well, a small sleeping pill to ease her pain handed over before she stretched out.

“You want something for the pain?” he asked, pointing at the marks on my cheeks and brow.

I shook my head. They’d be manageable with some aspirin. “I’m going to go home. You staying?”

“Yeah,” he replied, hissing when applying some sort of astringent to the welt on his head. “So the vicar, he was a biscuit or two short of a full tin, wasn’t he? Going on about the voice of God and all that. What utter shite. There is no God. There’s nothing after we die, just darkness.”

“Well, _we_ know that but they don’t. There are times that I wish I had that faith to fall back on, the succor of the church and the fantasy of pearly gates, clouds, and white wings when we pass over.” I yawned, my body about to give out. “We have nothing to look forward to now. Not even the notion that we’ll see our pets when we die.”

“Ugh, you’re getting morose. Go home. I’m going to get a pizza delivered and keep an eye on those two.” Owen waved me off with a dripping cotton ball, the smell of alcohol sneaking into my nose.

“Right, night then.” Off I went, keeping myself in the glow of streetlights as much as possible. Perhaps the Vashta Nerada were why intelligent creatures were afraid of the dark. I knew _I’d_ be sleeping with the lights on for a few nights.

Leaving the shops behind, I ambled along, lost in thought, until I was home and unable to recall walking the past five blocks. Slipping into my place, I inhaled deeply. The scent of Jack’s cologne lingered on the air. Sleep, shower, and a cup of tea were calling, and not necessarily in that order. I managed the shower and the sleep, the tea never materializing. The big bed that I shared with Jack was too much a siren and I’d fallen into her, damp and naked, and slept the sleep of the dead.

The sun was high in the sky when I finally woke up. I rolled to my side and stared at the empty spot beside me. Once I had my phone in hand I checked messages. Nothing from Jack. Four from work. One from Owen telling me to take the day off because he was at the Hub. If something came up, he’d call. I tapped him back saying I appreciated the downtime. The second text was from Tosh inquiring how I was. I replied back saying I was fine and she was to rest and heal. I got a fat red heart in reply. The third and fourth messages were from Gwen, rolling on and on about how sorry she was that she’d popped two pills instead of one, and that we could have been killed, and that her guilt was bigger than Jack’s ego. That made me chuckle, so I replied to her, telling her all was fine.

Rolling to my back, I found that to be true. All was fine, mostly. My bed was empty and I missed my boyfriend, but aside from some tingling on my cheeks and forehead, I was hale and hearty. Given I had a wee bit of time to myself, I planned to head back to what remained of the church to ensure that lumber pile had been properly--

A soft curse from the living room seeped into the bedroom. I sat up, senses on high alert for the voice that I’d heard was _not_ Jack’s. A crash followed the curse and I slid from bed, pulled on a pair of Cardiff U red sleep pants, and then called myself names for not bringing my gun back into the bedroom with me. Blame that on sheer fatigue. My weapon was in the bathroom with my bloody, smoky clothes, a stinking heap lying on the floor, which in and of itself showed how exhausted I’d been. I never drop clothes on the floor. Jack did that.

The bedroom door creaked open. I grabbed a book then brought it down quickly on a head full of brown curls. The lanky, lean man grunted. His wire-rim glasses fell to the carpeting and he went to one knee.

“Don’t move or you’ll feel the wrath of Keates for the second time!” I barked, wishing I’d had a larger volume of poems at hand.

“I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced, Ianto, but I had no idea who else to contact,” he said, looking up at me with familiar forest green eyes. A handsome bloke he was, and the current flame of John Hart. Oliver Bancroft his name was. I recalled his brief visit to the Hub with John a few months ago. While Oliver himself didn’t alarm me, the fact that John Hart was somehow going to be back in my life did.

“How did you get here?” I asked, tossing my book to the bed then crouching down to pick up and hand him his glasses. The man was a scholar, an art teacher from a distant planet.

“Oh, well, Amelia, John’s sister,” he said as he placed his glasses back on his nose then stood. I rose as well. He was an inch or two taller than me, which meant he dwarfed John when they were side-by-side, something I rather enjoyed. “She’s been tinkering with this old gizmo she found in a box in the back of John’s closet.” He held out his left arm, and there under the loose sleeve of a linen shirt, was a wristband that looked something like the ones Jack and John wore, only bulkier. “It’s been two weeks since he left Tetra 14 for India and we’d both grown quite—”

“India?”

“Yes, India, here on Earth,” Oliver replied with wariness. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Jack left yesterday for India. Is he with John do you think?”

“Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Damn the man. He never tells me anything, always haring off and getting into dangerous situations. It’s truly maddening to love a man like him!”

“Yes, tell me about it.” I padded to the bedroom window and looked out on a gray, damp Cardiff morning. “Are you sure he’s with Jack?”

“Well, no, but since they’ve a history, and they seem to have this bond over the old days and rash, reckless behavior, I thought I’d stop here before dropping into the jungles of India to go look for him.”

“Wise decision. I’ve not seen John, but Jack left without a word as to what he was off to tend to.” Rain speckled the glass, small droplets, flecks really. I glanced back at Oliver who was massaging the top of his head. “Sorry for the knot. Is that thing reliable?” I pointed to the wrist strap. The leather was cracked and it seemed to be sparking every few seconds.

“Ah well, yes, we think so. It brought me here. Amelia’s quite the clever girl, as well as creatively gifted. I managed to reroute a few of the wires, replacing some bits and bobs, and it seems to be reading my command inputs well. I am sorry to have woken you. I’ll be off to India then, to see if I can track him down.”

The niggle of worry that always chilled the back of my neck when Jack was in danger began tickling my nape. “Give me fifteen minutes to change and pack a bag. I’ll go with you. It will probably take both of us to figure out what they’ve gotten themselves into and get them out of it.”

 

 

 

The End

 

Oh dear, I wonder what Jack and John are tied-up in this time. Old time agent business? Some smuggler dealings? A con from the past who showed up seeking revenge? An alien power lord who the time agent’s took down freed from a galactic prison and looking to end the lives of the men who put him behind bars? All of the above? None of the above? I don’t have a clue, but I suspect it’s going to be a rip-roaring adventure for all four men!

 

I’ll be back soon with “The Mystery of Moonglow” and we’ll see just what kind of a pickle Jack, Ianto, John, and Oliver are truly in. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Oliver and how he came to be in John’s life, I recommend you read “Twinkle, Twinkle, Deadly Star – A Captain John Hart Story” here in my world on AO3 while we’re waiting for another break in my schedule. It’s a great tale, one of my favorites to be honest, but then again I’m quite partial to John, that droll, troublesome bastard.

 

Yours in fiction,

 

Feral

 

 


End file.
